


A Sickness of the Mind

by Listenerofshadows



Series: Sander Sides One-Shots [14]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Logince - Freeform, Vomit Mention, sick!fic, sickness tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 12:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listenerofshadows/pseuds/Listenerofshadows
Summary: “He hated being sick. He hated how it rendered his ability to think clearly. Most of all, he hated the illogicality of it all. After all, they were only mental constructs. They had no physical bodies for viruses to plague.”  /  Logan has come down with an illness and refuses to take care of himself properly. Luckily Roman’s there to save the day.





	A Sickness of the Mind

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was directly inspired by an [art piece](https://queer-human-being.tumblr.com/post/176247862188/logan-sick-the-sweater-doesnt-look-to-much-but-i) done by @queer-human-being on tumblr so please go check it out before you read the fic! <3

Logan leaned his head into the pillow as he wrapped his arms around it. He was not his presentable self today. He traded his black polo and dress slacks for something more suitable for lounging. The Christmas sweater that Roman and Patton made had become his go-to comfort shirt. Though he’d never tell the two of them that.

After all, how could he be taken seriously without dressing sharply? He would not make the same slip-up as the unicorn onesie again.

Along with the Christmas sweater, he wore a pair of sweatpants and socks, long since abandoning his shoes to the floor next to his bed. Normally he’d whisked them away to his closet. But he didn’t have the strength to manage that.

He’d even taken off his glasses, managing to place them on the night stand next to his bed. Thank goodness, the last thing he wanted was a pair of broken glasses from flinging them onto the floor or from accidentally stepping on them later on.

 He felt something pressing against his esophagus and he groaned, further burrowing his head into the pillow. He’d already thrown up once today, and once was enough.

Logan eyed the trashcan sitting next to his desk, but made no effort to move towards it. He shivered–a byproduct of the chills caused by his fever. He had a headache the size of Texas, making it very hard to do anything but clutch onto his pillow for dear life.

He hated being sick. He hated how it rendered his ability to think clearly. Most of all, he hated the illogicality of it all. After all, they were only mental constructs. They had no physical bodies for viruses to plague.

Without warning, his door flung open, slamming into the wall with a bang. Logan flinched.

“Hey Nerd, I got some brand spanking new ideas for you to review!” Roman boomed as he stormed in typical princey fashion. Loud and passionate.

He was staring down at his papers, ignorant of the way Logan sat huddled on his bed. Logan pursed his lips. Great. Roman was the last thing he needed at the moment.

Upon looking up from his papers, Roman noticed Logan wasn’t sitting at his desk, studiously working away. His eyes scanned the room.

“Logan…?” His breath caught when he finally saw him, “oh,  _Logan_.”

“Salutations, Rom–” Logan’s greeting was interrupted by a coughing fit.

Roman frowned, his papers crashing onto the floor as he strode forward. Logan would normally complain about the mess, but right now he didn’t care. The prince gently brushed aside Logan’s bangs before pressing the back of his hand against his forehead.

“You’re burning up,” Roman noted in distress before his eyebrows furrowed, “Logan, how long have you been sick?”

“A few days,” Logan confessed, shutting his eyes close in defeat, “Admittedly, it has been getting…gradually worse.”

Roman glanced over at the state of Logan’s desk before looking back at Logan.

“You’ve been working,” He said, stating it more as a fact rather than a question.

“Yes,” Logan coughed, “It was just a minor cold at first, I don’t see why I couldn’t have kept working–”

“Logan, what do you tell us whenever we’re sick?” Roman interrupted, a wry smile on his face.

“…to get plenty of rest and drink copious amounts of water.”

“Have you been doing that?”

“No,” Logan huffed, annoyed more at himself than Roman, “I suppose I am not the best at following my own advice.”

“Uh-huh,” Roman bopped Logan’s nose with his finger, “it’s good that you have a dashingly handsome prince here to save the day!”

Roman snapped his fingers and a glass of water appeared along with some medicine. He handed them to Logan, who muttered his gratitude before downing the pills with the water.

“Now, let us make the most majestic of pillow forts in the living room and watch Big Hero 6.” Roman proclaimed, grinning.

“You don’t have keep me company Roman,” Logan murmured, “I’m sure you’re busy with your princely duties.”

“Nonsense!” Roman cried, “taking care of you is a part of my princely duties! What type of prince would I be if I left you suffering alone in agony?”

He scooped Logan into his arms, despite his protests and marched downstairs into the living room.

Patton and Virgil came across them asleep hours later, the ending credits of the movie scrolling down the screen. They laid underneath the pillow fort Roman devised. Logan rested his head against Roman’s chest as the latter slung an arm over him protectively.

A week later, Roman came down with a fever. But that was okay, because that just meant it was Logan’s turn to fuss over him.


End file.
